


Colors

by winterwaters



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments of Arya and Gendry through colors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arya

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something new :)

**Blue:** His eyes held so many different shades. Impossibly soft and clear as he looked at her in the early morning light. As cold as the winter snows when he was angry. Nearly as dark as his black hair when he settled between her thighs. Warm as the fire in his forge when he laughed at her latest prank on Sansa, queen or not. Focused and steady as the water he was named for as he explored her body curiously. Gentle as a feather as his fingers and lips brushed over her scars.

 **Red:** The thick head of his manhood, flushed with blood as he hardened under her hands. Darker than she expected when a soldier sliced his arm open, staining through the layers of cloth they quickly bound over it. Bright as the berries he always gathered for her at the start of the season, the same berries he then tasted when his lips covered hers.

 **Black:** The soot that endlessly stuck to his body as he seemingly took the forge everywhere. His dark, thick hair that she tugged at endlessly as he drove her to the edge with only his lips and tongue. The same darkness he left smudged on her own pale skin when she surprised him at the forge with soft, playful kisses that inevitably turned into something more. 

**Orange:** The color of the sky as the sun sank slowly into slumber and he slipped his hand into hers. The name of the fruit he’d only ever heard of but never tasted until now. The glow of the embers as she fell asleep to the sound of his steady hammer in the forge.

**Green:** The tree boughs that whispered silently above them when he first kissed her in the godswood. The color of the cloak he lent her when they got caught in a storm outside the castle. The blades of grass she kept finding in his hair after a morning of training turned into teasing and tumbling in the meadow. 

**Grey:** The stone that they used to rebuild Winterfell. Strong and sturdy, these were the walls that surrounded her when she came home to him at the end of each day. The same slabs that made up the crypts, where her parents’ and brother’s spirits now rested. Home. 

**White** : The snowflakes that landed on his head in stark contrast to his hair as he gazed about in wonder. The sheen of her on his fingers as he licked them clean like his favorite dessert. The smiles he always seemed to save for her, whether small or wicked or soothing, that never failed to make her smile back. 


	2. Gendry

**Grey:** He would never forget her eyes. Clear as the sky before rain as she studied him carefully. Flashing in anger as she fought fiercely for her home alongside him and her brothers. Bright with mischief as she pushed him into a snowdrift. Gentle as she changed the dressing on his injury. Wide with surprise as he kissed her under the weirwood. Home.

 **Red:** The only color he saw in the days following her kidnapping. The stain on his hands after he finally took Bolton to task for his lies. The dark, dried blood against her pale skin as she surveyed her home. The sweet flush that spread through her cheeks more easily than he’d expected when he brought her berries. 

**Black:** The banner they carried and eventually raised over Winterfell, reminding the world that the Starks survived, and the North remembered. The armband she wore almost daily, in remembrance. The chord around her neck, carrying the token he’d fashioned for her on her name day.

 **Yellow:** The only remotely bright color she would let her sister squeeze her into, the look in her eyes telling him to dirty it before the day’s end. Her wolf’s eyes as she watched him knowingly from the edge of camp while he hammered away at the steel in frustration. The heat of the sun the day he found her in Braavos.

 **Pink:** Her sneaky tongue pressing insistently against his, mapping the planes of his body, darting out to taste him before her equally wicked lips wrapped around the head of him. The lightness that tinged her cheeks when he told her he loved her, his wild Northern lady. 

**Brown:** He was surrounded by it. Her long, wild, lovely hair that that he couldn’t help but wrap around his hands as she moved over him. The same color that topped her breasts and the soft mound between her thighs. The warm dirt floor and wooden walls of the forge where he was most comfortable, where she always found him.

 **White:** The imprint her fingers left on his face when she slapped him. Snow, soft and unyielding and wondrous all at once, not unlike her. The sweet warmth between her thighs that he couldn’t get enough of. The color of the flowers they picked together to place before her family’s graves in the crypts. The soft smile she always reserved for him, exasperated or teasing or caring, that always made him smile back.


End file.
